I reach for a dumpling, one of the pork and chives that’s still steaming slightly, and take a bite.
Oh my God.
The flavor explodes in my mouth. Savory, perfectly seasoned, the pork juicy, and the chives adding just the right amount of sharpness. It’s perfect.
“Oh, wow,” I mutter around the mouthful, temporarily forgetting to be masculine. “These are incredible.”
“Shame your sister’s missing out,” Jasper says, watching me with obvious amusement as I reach for another dumpling immediately.
All four of them are staring at me as I eat the second one, and I realize I’m making small pleased noises in my throat without meaning to.
“I’m sure she’ll be here soon,” I manage between bites. “She’s got a pressing deadline. You know she does comic illustrations for her Patreon.”
Dylan leans forward, interested, pushing his plate aside slightly to give me his full attention. “What kind of comics? Like superhero stuff?”
“Uh, mythology. Mostly Norse and Greek.” I’m trying to describe my own work without giving too much away. “She reimagines the classic stories with, uh, different perspectives. Powerful female leads. Lots of drama and romance and morally gray situations.”
“That sounds incredible,” Slater says, and there’s genuine interest lighting up his usually grumpy expression. His steel-gray eyes are focused on me with intensity. “Norse mythology, hey?”
“Yeah, she’s really into it. Valkyries, Loki, the myths, all that. She loves the complexity of the stories, the way nothing’s ever really black and white.”
His eyes light up even more, and I remember our conversation on the boat yesterday about the Norns weaving fate in the mist. He loves these stories as much as I do.
“I’ll have to check it out,” he says. “What’s her Patreon name?”
“Uh, I’ll have to ask her,” I say quickly, shoving another dumpling in my mouth to buy time. “I can never remember the exact name. It’s something fancy and mythological. She changes it sometimes for branding reasons.” I swallow the food in my mouth. “Anyway, I need to hit the bathroom,” I say. “Be right back.”
I stand and head toward the hallway, hearing Slater saying something, but I can’t make out his words.
In no time, I grab my backpack from behind the trash can, glancing around carefully to make sure no one’s watching. The hallway is empty. Perfect.
Then I slip into the women’s room.
One person is in a stall. I dart into the other one, my heart hammering so hard I’m surprised the whole restaurant can’t hear it.
I work frantically, yanking off Ash’s clothes and stuffing them in the bag. The button-up shirt. The jeans. Everything goes into the bag in a messy pile.
The dress slides on easily. I planned this specifically, choosing the simplest slip dress I own. It’s in a deep emerald green, made from thin, slinky fabric that clings just enough to suggest curves without being obvious. Short sleeves, a low neckline. Easy on, easy off.
I leave the chest binder on. Looking down, I notice it pushes my breasts up slightly at the neckline, creating a hint of cleavage that’s actually kind of perfect.
Not ideal for passing as a guy, but great for looking like myself.
I peel off the facial hair carefully, pressing each piece onto the plastic sheet I brought specifically for this purpose. The adhesive is still tacky enough to reuse. The wig comes off next, and I shake out my natural hair, running my fingers through the chestnut waves to give them some life after being compressed.
Two minutes. Maybe less.
I’m good at this, which is either impressive or deeply concerning.
I swap my boots for simple black shoes that slip on instantly. Apply pink lipstick quickly, barely looking in the mirror.
Damn. Almost forgot.
I grab the tiny contact lens case from my toiletries pouch, flick it open, and quickly take out the clear lenses, dropping them into the liquid. My eyes blink a few times, adjusting to the soft blur of the real world.
No time for more makeup. This’ll have to do.
Lastly, I peel off the scent patch from my inner wrist.
